


unprofessional

by soggywormcircus



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Pining, Pre-Canon, like. the mildest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soggywormcircus/pseuds/soggywormcircus
Summary: The injury is not that bad. Sure, it's a gunshot wound and it must hurt like hell, but it didn't hit anything vital. It can be treated easily. It doesn't even bleed as much as it could. He's probably even had much worse.Still, when Owen hears the gunshot and sees Curt fall, he loses it.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 18
Kudos: 210





	unprofessional

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this with the only objective being them making out, so please forgive me for not knowing anything about gunshot wounds or just. spies in general

The injury is not that bad. Sure, it's a gunshot wound and it must hurt like hell, but it didn't hit anything vital. It can be treated easily. It doesn't even bleed as much as it could. He's probably had much worse.

Still, when Owen hears the gunshot and sees Curt fall, he loses it.

He stops aiming for the knees, one, two, seven gunshots, all between the eyes, and it gets quiet around them. The only thing Owen hears is Curt's frantic breathing and then, a whisper. 

'Holy shit, Owen'. 

It pulls Owen out of whatever state he was in. He rushes over to where Curt is lying, clutching the hole in his leg. It does nothing to stop the bleeding. His hands are red all over. Owen takes them into his and moves them away from the wound. 'Let me see'.

He doesn't look Curt in the eyes but he still knows he's grinning. He probably can't help it. It still makes Owen angry. 

'It's not that bad,' Curt says softly, as if Owen can't see that. He clings to the words anyway.

'Dodged a real bullet there. I mean- not literally of course, 'cause the bullet got me and stuff, but still-'

'Shut up'. It comes out much harsher than intended, and Curt falls silent immediately. But not for very long. 

'Hey, come on, what's wrong?', there's that grin again, the one Owen can hear without having to see it. 'What, are you worried about me, sweetheart?' 

While Owen's heart had been beating furiously the past minutes, it seems to stop completely right now. It's foolish. Owen knows Curt well, possibly better than anyone else. He knows that this is simply what he is like. He probably can't help it. No matter the flutter in Owen's chest or the way he feels when he makes Curt laugh, it doesn't mean anything. At least not to Curt. 

Owen finally looks at his partner. The smile would almost reassure him if it weren't for the pain underneath it, barely bitten back. Owen resists the urge to reach for Curt's face, to wipe the pained expression right off. 

'Can you stand?'

Curt nods immediately, but he might be lying. Still, Owen helps him up and slings his arm around his own shoulder to support him. 

'We need to get you somewhere safe,' Owen says. This is good, this is easy: concentrating on the next logical step instead of everything else. Owen can do that. Owen can be professional. 'Do you remember the briefing?' Curt nods. 'The warehouse,' He forces out between clenched teeth. 

'Can you make that?,' Owen asks, and then he forces himself to grin. 'Or do you need me to carry you?' 

'Oh please,' Curt grunts, 'you'd only wrinkle my shirt.' Owen has a look at Curt's bloodstained shirt peaking out from underneath his jacket and says nothing. He's relieved his partner is still able to make jokes. It doesn't matter how bad they are. 

'Alright,' Owen says, 'let's go'. 

They have to make it to the warehouse quickly in order not to arouse suspicion, but Curt's face twists with pain every time he takes a step. Owen ends up carrying him after all. 

Once they're in the warehouse, Owen can finally see to Curt's wound properly. He ignores the expression on Curt's face when he takes off his jacket and puts it on the floor for Curt to sit down properly. 

The wound looks alright. The bullet only grazed Curt's leg and there's nothing for Owen to do but to clean it and patch it up. That's something he can do.

'Looks like I got lucky,' Curt says with a shrug. 'This is nothing compared to what Cynthia is gonna do to me later.' 'What Cynthia is going to do is nothing compared to what I'm going to do once I'm finished with you,' Owen growls and holds out his hand. 'Give me your flask.' 

Curt, the one person Owen couldn't bear to lose and the one person that managed to get shot in the leg, really has the audacity to look offended by this. 'Come on, Owen, it wasn't my fault-'

'Curt.' He shuts up. 'Your flask.' 

There's not very much alcohol left in Curt's flask, but it will do. 

Curt hisses and flinches away when Owen pours it over his leg. 'Hold still,' Owen snaps. He grips the flask tighter to hide the fact that his hands are shaking. 

'It hurts,' Curt whines. Somehow, it manages to ease some of the tension out of Owen. 'What do you mean?,' He asks, 'The gunshot in your leg? That just doesn't make sense.' 

'You shouldn't be mean to me,' Curt complains, but he's smiling. 'I'm injured. I might die.' 

'I'm just preparing you for what's going to happen to you once you make it to the agency.' He holds out his hand a second time. 'Your jacket'. 

Curt pulls a face, then he smiles. 'Why don't you use your shirt?' Owen doesn't even blink at that. Curt takes off his jacket with some muttered complaining and hands it to Owen. 

Once Owen has the wound patched up, it gets quiet around them. 

But Owen's theory that Curt is unable to shut up for more than seven and a half minutes is quickly confirmed again when he starts talking. 

'Are you good?', he asks. 'You seemed a bit freaked out back there.' 

Owen blinks at Curt, lost for words for once in his life. Curt, who can barely walk and who is still covered in his own blood, is worried about him. 

It makes Owen's chest ache. He hates it. He wants more.

He shakes his head. 'I'm fine,' He says. Hesitates, then quietly adds, 'I just don't wanna lose my partner is all.' 

Curt smiles this time, not that cocky smirk that is not endearing at all. It's a sincere and warm smile and it makes Owen want to scream. 

'Of course you don't,' Curt says, sounding delighted, 'you'd never get one as good as me ever again.' Owen grins. 'Did you hit your head when you fell? You sound a little delusional, maybe you have a fever?' 

He puts a hand on Curt's forehead. He has a look at Curt's face. His piercing eyes, the sweat caught in his brow. Even like this, hurt and shaken up, he is very beautiful. 

Then, Owen realises what he's doing. He drops his hand and looks away. 

But not for very long. Curt doesn't say anything for once. He tries to wipe the sweat from his forehead but just manages to smear blood all over his face instead. Without a word, Owen takes his hand and pulls it away from his face, where it can't inflict any more damage. And he doesn't let go of it. Curt still doesn't speak, and only stares. 

Eventually, Owen clears his throat. 'We should get out of here before it's too late.' He omits the fact that he has the feeling that if he stays in this warehouse for another minute, he is either going to suffocate or do something very, very stupid. 

'Yeah, you're right,' Curt says, and nothing else. For a second it looks like he's biting his tongue, then he nudges Owen with his elbow. 'Help me up.' 

When they are both standing, Owen slings Curt's arm around his neck again to help him walk. He has a feeling that carrying Curt now would not be a good idea. 

'You know,' Curt says, and Owen is almost relieved to hear that goddamn smirk in his voice again, 'maybe you should kiss me. You know, just in case I don't make it out of this alive.' 

Owen freezes. This is another one of those moments. Those moments where he should just laugh off Curt's flirting and accept that this is simply the way he is, and that that is all there is to that. 

But Curt got shot today. Shit, he could have died. Their line of work has always been dangerous, always been risky. And yet, Owen has never once considered he could lose Curt to it until now. 

So he should just play along and call this simple banter, like he's supposed to. He's even thinking of something witty to say back to Curt. But while he is, he pulls Curt's face towards him, and presses a kiss to his lips. 

It's a short kiss, and Owen is so surprised by himself that he almost misses Curt's lips. It's chaste and way too soft and not nearly enough for Owen. But, fuck. It feels so much better than he could have ever imagined. He's kissing Curt. He's _kissing_ Curt Mega.

Oh Shit. Right after realising what he's doing, he realises what he is _doing_. He pulls away immediately. His face feels like it's on fire. He has a look at Curt's face. 

His expression would probably be amusing under different circumstances: His eyes wide open, his mouth a perfectly round o. Owen realises that Curt expects him to say something, so he shrugs. 'Well,' he says defensively, 'you asked, didn't you?' 

For a brief and bitter second, Owen wonders if Curt would push him away if he could. And then Curt's mouth crashes against his. 

Curt's knees almost give in when he stops holding onto Owen and fists his hands into his hair instead. Owen hears himself gasp in a way that's not entirely startled, and he grabs Curt's hips and holds him tight.

It's not quite enough. Owen is pressed up against Curt so closely that he feels his legs trembling with the effort not to give in. He can almost taste Curt's bitten back pain. 

'Curt,' Owen utters, and Curt moves on from Owens lips to his jawline. Owen nearly forgets what he's trying to say. 'Curt, wait.' 

'Shut up,' Curt growls lowly. Now Owen is the one whose legs are about to give in. 'Just shut up.' 

Owen laughs quietly. He presses a kiss to the top of Curt's head. 'Let's at least sit down.' 

''m fine,' Curt murmurs between kisses. Owen sighs. At least this is familiar. 

'No, you're not, come on.' 

Owen pulls away slowly. Curt lets out a whine and when Owen has helped him to the floor, his eyes are averted. He's very focused on his fingers. Then he smiles, and Owen knows exactly what's coming.

'You know, if I had known that you'd faint and need to sit from a little kissing, I wouldn't have said anything.' 

Owen smiles. This is where he should join Curt on the banter. But it's a little hard to think of something witty when he can still feel the warmth of Curt's lips on his face. 

'Why did you?' 

Curt looks up. His smile is different now. 'I don't know.' It sounds like a lie. 'I have a hole in my leg. I figured you would think I wasn't serious. And I didn't have anything to lose.' 

'And now?', Owen asks quietly. 

Curt shrugs. 'Now I don't wanna do anything but kiss you until I finally pass out.' 

Owen swallows hard. How Curt can simply say these things out loud so easily will forever be a mystery to him. Right now though, he is infinitely grateful for it. 'Well,' he says, 'what are you waiting for?' 

Curt smiles again and in this moment, Owen thinks that he would do anything to keep that smile on this face, and to kiss it for the rest of his life. 

It's a silly, sentimental thought. It's very unlike Owen. But it's true nonetheless. 

Owen takes Curt's hand into his, and Curt squeezes it. 'We should probably get out of here before we get into real trouble.' 

This makes Owen laugh. 'You're right.' He scoots a little closer to Curt. Curt turns his head towards him and their foreheads touch. 'We probably should.' 

They don't leave the warehouse until the sun starts rising again. It's very unprofessional. It's very unlike Owen. He loves every second of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading and happy holidays!


End file.
